


These dreams

by Rosemary_Dandelion



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s04e17-e18 The End of Time, F/M, Gen, Pete's World, Post-Episode: s04e13 Journey's End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosemary_Dandelion/pseuds/Rosemary_Dandelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of time, there's one last connection...</p>
            </blockquote>





	These dreams

**Author's Note:**

> _I've started watching Doctor Who only a couple of months ago and yesterday I finished the 4th series. This is my way of grieving for the 10th Doctor._

Ever since he had moved in with Rose he had had these dreams. Not just dreams. Memories of his former life. More than nine hundred years of life as a Time Lord, travelling with his TARDIS, rescuing planets, making history, changing the future. Memories of the life that had ended on Dårlig Ulv Stranden, the day the parallel world had sealed itself off forever. Only for him this life had ended, it hadn't ended for the The Other One, as he used to refer to him. He often thought of him, wondering what had become of him. Was he still travelling with The Doctor-Donna, part Time Lord, part human, just like him? It felt strange that he and the Other One shared memories up to the point when he had come into being, but knowing that they were now following completely different paths. Paths that would never cross again. Was it due to his part-humanness that his mind failed to understand this entirely?

Every once in a while he awoke in the middle of the night, having dreamt of events so long ago – and so far away. But this time it was different. This was not a memory. This time he had seen things he didn’t remember from his past life. Things he didn’t quite understand.

Martha and Mickey. Martha and Mickey? Married? Seriously? Those two had ended up together? After Martha had got over him, and Mickey had got over Rose this was probably the only way things could have ended for them. Smith and Jones once more.

A book-shop. A young woman was signing copies of her book. She was pretty. He looked closer and realized that she looked exactly like her grandmother had. The only woman The Other One had ever been able to confess his love to. No, not The Other One. John Smith, the teacher. Time Lords didn’t confess their love. Only humans did. And part-humans.

Donna in a wedding dress, coming out of a church. He wasn’t part of the crowd. This was Donna’s wedding, and Donna had been his best companion ever. A true mate. How come he wasn’t invited? He was standing apart from the others, talking to Donna’s mother and her grandfather. Oh, he had always liked that old man with the telescope. What was his name, again?

Then Jack. Captain Jack Harkness. Sometimes a nuisance, most of the times a great friend. Jack, sitting at a Bar, looking desperate and lonely, with just a drink to keep him company. Next to him another familiar face. Midshipman Frame, looking just as lonely. Allons-y, Alonso! He decided to give them a little push.

And then Rose, looking younger than she was now. Rose, coming home in the early morning, wishing her mother a Happy New Year. She looked at him and her not recognizing him almost broke his heart. But, of course, how could she? It was not until one year later that she would see him with that face. He promised her that 2005 was going to be a great year, and when she moved on he felt his whole body ache. But this was not only the pain of seeing Rose…

Then he heard clear voices, a sweet song that seemed to be all around him. Suddenly he understood. Close to panicking he sat up in his bed, tried to breathe but only managed to sob. He knew what was coming, and he had not expected to experience it again. What had gone wrong? What had happened? He tried to remember, but the harder he tried, the more blurred the memories became. And then there was this one thought taking shape in his mind, growing stronger and stronger, until he had to get it out.

“I don’t want to go.”

Rose, his Rose, stirred beside him and opened her eyes. „What is it?“ she asked sleepily.

He looked around in the darkness, confused, not quite knowing where he was. Rose sat up, hugged him and stroked his back. The scent of her hair, of her soft skin reminded him that he was home.

“What is it?” she repeated. “One of these dreams again?”

“No.” He shook his head, then held his hands in front of his face, looking at them as if he expected them to glow.

“No,” he said again with a low voice. “I think I’ve just died.”


End file.
